


Cruinne Malartach

by writtenthroughtime



Series: WTT's Posts for ImagineClaireandJamie [16]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: AU, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:48:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine there are stones that don't send you through time but into alternative universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruinne Malartach

“Ye must go Claire!” 

His voice echoed in my head.

“Ye must go Claire!” A constant loop of his deep voice filled with terror and sadness.

I didn’t want to go, I wanted to stay. There was nothing for me in the future—at least there was nothing that I wanted—to go back to.

The abyss of the stones surrounded me. I clenched my eyes shut, groping my abdomen for dear life, and prayed. I prayed to go back to Jamie. My heart and head, both were set: Jamie was home. Not the twentieth century or Frank, but Jamie. The screams droned on around me, but still the loudest voice of all was Jamie’s voice begging me to leave; to protect myself and our child.

I felt tears stream down my cheeks as I swirled relentlessly through the dark, pulled in one direction then the other; forever churning, and then...silence.

Silence surrounded me. I could no longer hear the screams of the stones or my own thoughts. White light lit the backs of my eyelids. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and blinking I cautiously looked around. Scotland. Not the dark abyss between worlds, between _times_ , but the fresh mountainous air of the Scottish Highlands. The skies were clear blue and the wildlife seemed to be teeming with life. The air smelled fresh, cleaner somehow. The choking smell of cannon and gunfire were missing, as was the clogging smells of automobile exhaust.

Woozily, I sat up, my head spinning and my gut churning with the phantom motions from within the stones.

“Claire!”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at the sound of the voice. My eyes clenched shut again, trying to block out the ghost. I braced my fists against my abdomen and leaned forward, my forehead nearly touching the ground.

“Claire!” The voice said, alarmed, at the same time a younger voice, another ghost, screamed, “Milady!”

My family. They were gone. They were not here. I was gone to them too, now two-hundred years into the future. A keening wail pierced the air. 

“Mo nighean donn, what’re ye doing by the stones?” His voice was closer, stronger than any memory should be and held deep rooted panic with each word.

“Christ! Look at me Claire!” Hands clamped onto my shoulders and I jolted.

The sound of the wailing stopped.

“J-Jamie?” I stuttered out, my breath coming in short gasps.

Jamie smiled, his eyes softening in relief. “Aye, mo nighean donn, ‘tis me.”

I grabbed onto his coat, pulled myself to him, and clung on for dear life. I sobbed into his neck, savoring his heat, his smell, and the way the bristles of beard on his neck scratched my forehead.

“You’re alive,” I whispered, choked with emotion. “You didn’t die on the moor. You’re alive!”

He laughed, whether out of amusement or concern I couldn’t tell. “Aye, I’m verra much so alive, mo Sorcha. Why would I no’ be?”

“What about Culloden? How did you get away? Did we win? Did we change history?” I looked around in a panic. Murtagh stood back, arms crossed, a deep frown on his face, and Fergus crouched down just beside Jamie looking to him in alarm.

“Where are the redcoats?” I said anxiously.

“What redcoats, Milady?” Fergus asked, reaching a hand out to rest it on top of my own.

“The ones you were fighting, when I came up the hill...you told me to run and not to look back! You begged me to go back through the stones!” I exclaimed searching Jamie’s alarmed eyes.

“Did ye hit your head, Sassenach? Or have a bad dream? Ye ken the battle of Culloden is no’ to be. We convinced Charles Stuart to abandon his endeavor while in France.”

Murtagh made a Scottish noise of derision. “Yeah, and a lot of good that did us too! Now he wishes to have us be a lookout and safe haven for him in Scotland. Why ye ever trusted the man I dinna ken.”

Jamie gave Murtagh a disapproving look. “To stop the massacre of the Scottish people, to prevent Claire’s history from happening! To finally no longer be a wanted man. I can return home now, Murtagh. Work the family lands, build a family,” at this he placed a hand over my large abdomen. “And finally be free of some of the fear caused by the English!”

“Stopping the rebellion wasna a way to stop the terror caused by the English! I--”

“They now no longer have reason to raid the Highlands for Jacobites or to terrorize my family. King Louis was able to convince King George of that. I may no’ be a loyalist, but I’m no’ a traitor either. I just want to live in peace, with my wife, and children.” Jamie’s hand tightened over where our unborn child grew and looked down at Fergus, still holding my hand sweetly.

I looked at him in awe. The determined ferociousness with which he spoke of wanting to be free and with a family; could what he was saying be true? Did we stop the rebellion from happening?

My head began to swim and I felt the beginning of a faint pull me under.

“—come back, mo nighean donn—need to wake up!”

“—she—any blood—”

“Non—Milady, Milord needs—”

My consciousness waned in and out, my body felt boneless as I blacked out once again.

I woke with my head in Jamie’s lap, as he bowed down mumbling deep in prayer. Cautiously, I moved my head to the side, eager to get up.

Jamie’s eyes popped open. “Claire!”

The sound of Fergus rushing to my side and the crackling of a fire caught my attention.

“Where are—”

“Shh, dinna speak, mo nighean donn,” Jamie soothed, smoothing my hair back. “We dinna see any blood, nor could we find a wee bump on yer head. Is it the bairn? Could they be causing ye to forget and pass out?”

“That’s a good possibility,” I admitted, blushing. “Do you have anything I could eat? Something with sugar in it perhaps?”

“Oui, Milady!” Fergus answered, rushing back to the fire ring to grab whatever food they may have. “Here, Milady.” He held out a perfectly wrapped small parcel.

“Thank you Fergus.” I smiled at him, and he beamed back. “Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“Can you help me sit up?”

He quickly adjusted me so that my back was against his chest, and his arms lightly cradled my stomach.

I turned and kissed his cheek in thanks. He smiled and captured my lips for the first time. Kissing Jamie was not like kissing anyone else. His raw passion and love seeped through in his kisses which caused my heart to fill and stomach to clench with want. He pulled away just as I was aching for more.

“I dinna want ye to strain yerself or the bairn, Claire. Please, eat.”

Slowly, I unwrapped the parcel and saw a perfect little French pastry sat in the paper. I looked at Fergus in shock.

“How did you—?”

“I knew they were your favorite, Milady. I wanted to grab more, but I knew they would not last. We’ve already been on the road for many weeks. I was surprised it’s made it this far,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

“Come here, please,” I said, my arms outstretched. He barreled into my embrace and I hugged him with all my strength.

“You are the most considerate boy, Fergus. How did we get so lucky to find you?” I kissed the top of his messy curls. He melted down onto my chest a small smile turned the corner of his lips.

“Fergus,” Jamie grunted, like a father scolding his son.

“He’s fine Jamie. Let him rest there. I’m not hurt, and neither is the baby.”

I could feel Jamie nod and heavily sigh behind me.

The first bite of the pastry was something out of a dream. How Fergus managed to keep this uneaten and still so moist was beyond me.

“Keep moaning like that Sassenach and I may have to take ye away into the trees,” Jamie growled softly into my ear. I felt myself blush as a wave of desire crashed through me. My breath quickened as he nipped at my earlobe.

I couldn’t help but feel content in the moment--Jamie cradling me, Fergus asleep against me, Murtagh standing sentry for our camp, and the baby safe in my womb--this is where I was meant to be.

“Jamie?” I whispered softly, careful not to wake Fergus.

“Aye?” He whispered back, burying his nose in my neck.

“Can you tell me what I seem to have forgotten? My memories are fuzzy and seem to be replaced with nightmares. All I can remember was the rebellion happening, all of the battles...the people we lost--”

My voice cracked remembering Rupert, Dougal, and the many men from Lallybroch that gave their lives for this cause...Faith.

“Of course, mo nighean donn. I’ll remind ye. If I have to, I’ll remind ye everyday of our lives how ye helped us change history.”

“Thank you, Jamie.” I whispered, covering his cheek with my hand. He turned and kissed it.

“What’s the farthest back ye can remember?”

I snorted. “I remember falling through time, meeting a rouge, injured Scottish Highlander and falling in love. I can remember the moment you were taken from me and the raiding party to get you back. The horror of Wentworth, the peace we shared at the Abbey after working out your demons, and I remember sailing from Scotland to France. We found your cousin, he asked you to watch over his wine business while he was gone. The rest I’m rather confused about.”

I felt him smile against my neck then give it a kiss. “Aye, that’s a mighty fine memory, Sassenach. I’m glad ye remember me and how we met, though I wouldna mind ye forgetting Wentworth or my seasickness on the way to France,” he said, humor coloring his voice.

“I could never forget you,” I whispered.

Fergus shifted on my shoulder, falling down onto my chest; his head slowly sliding down to my lap.

I smiled down at the slumbering boy. “Is my memory correct about Fergus? That you found him in a brothel and hired him to be our pickpocket?”

“Aye. That’s true. The same brothel where I had many meetings with the Prince.” I nodded at his statement. That was true for me as well. “He was eager to begin his rebellion, but the reason he did not continue it was because of you, Sassenach.”

 

“Me?” I questioned, startled.

“Aye, you. Ye held a mighty fine dinner one night, filled the apartment with French nobility and backers of the Jacobite rebellion. Ye were able to sweet talk Charles into coming by again for tea, to get to know ye and myself outside of a political atmosphere. And it worked. By Christ, yer plan worked. Ye managed to get Charles to see things as you did; an English Lady in love with a Scottish Laird. Ye told him how, together, we were stronger and he need not worry over George’s throne. That he could be a better ally by backing Louis. By showing support for an English/French merger, that he wanted to be nothing like his father who was exiled, but seen as a consultant. Ye convinced him to speak with Louis and George as an ambassador of the South.”

My eyes went wide at the revelation. Charles Stuart, an ambassador of England. Jamie chuckled at my silence.

“Ye then were able to convince him to no longer keep the rebellion alive, because if he could be a consultant to the king and tell the king what it is the British subjects abroad needed, then he would come into more power. I dinna ken how ye did it Sassenach, but ye managed to get Charles a position of power in Italy and France. He’s now, in a way, a king when he’s in either country. British subjects are subject to his law and rule while there. He is under the King, but he only has to follow guidelines and he can rule the people abroad as he sees fit.”

“What about Faith?”

“Ah, ye never did give up on my faith, or yers Sassenach. God has blessed us.”

“No, Jamie, that’s not what I meant. I mean our daughter, Faith.”

I turned to see Jamie’s face scrunch up in confusion. “We havena had a daughter, Sassenach. She or he still grows in yer womb,” he said, rubbing small circles over my abdomen.

“So, we haven’t lost a child?” I asked, tears in my eyes.

“Christ, no! And hopefully by God’s will, we’ll no lose one!”

I slumped back against him, sobs slowly coming from me.

“What’s wrong, Claire? Did I say something wrong?”

“No! I’m just…so relieved! I-I-I thought that I had lost our child and that this one was a second miracle!”

The sobs were coming harder now. He turned my head to his shoulder, making sure Fergus wasn’t jostled too much on my lap.

“Shhh, mo nighean donn. Ye havena lost anything.” Jamie kissed my forehead and began to mumble in Gaelic, soothing me to sleep.


End file.
